


Sudden Visitations

by earthspirits



Series: Demimonde of Shadows - Stories Set in the World of Penny Dreadful [4]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV), penny dreadful - Fandom
Genre: Brona Croft - Freeform, Doctor Frankenstein - Freeform, Dr Frankenstein, Dracula - Freeform, Ethan Chandler - Freeform, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Kindness, Love, Prophecy, Prophetic Visions, Rebirth, Reconciliation, Redemption, References to Character Death, Reincarnation, Repentance, Resurrection, Sir Malcolm Murray - Freeform, True Love, Vampires, Visions, classic horror, compassion - Freeform, devoted friendship, indirect references to character death, indirect references to violence, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthspirits/pseuds/earthspirits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastated by the loss of the woman who had been their dearest friend, John Clare and Dr. Victor Frankenstein join forces to rescue her from the land of the dead.</p><div class="center">
  <p>“Such souls, whose sudden visitations daze the world,<br/>Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind a voice that<br/>In the distance far away, wakens the slumbering ages.”</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p> -- Sir Henry Taylor (1800-1886) </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Sudden Visitations

**Author's Note:**

> _Spoilers:_ Contains S3 spoilers.
> 
>  _Rating:_ Mature - as there are references to character death and acts of violence, with an emphasis on repentance, forgiveness, and redemption.
> 
> This story takes place immediately after "The Flower of His Heart" - Part 2 of my "Demimonde of Shadows" series.

Sighing, John Clare leaned forward to peer into the massive tank that dominated the center of the laboratory. Through the clear water that filled its stone depths, he could see the serene face of Vanessa Ives, a drowned Ophelia in her simple white gown, her long inky hair floating around her like seaweed. The color of the water was pale green, brimming with rare herbs to preserve her as she awaited rebirth. Victor had removed the fatal bullet, and repaired the ravages it had caused to her body. The gown hid the stitching, but while he had been very careful, she would always carry scars. 

Within the tank, Vanessa lay on a wooden gurney, straps of leather holding her slender form in place. The gurney was part of an elaborate apparatus that could be lifted to the open skylight directly overhead, and then to the roof of the lab. Rain poured steadily through the skylight, pooling on the broken slabs of the scuffed concrete floor.

John felt a hand on his shoulder. “She looks so peaceful,” said Victor softly.

“Yes – yes, she does,” John Clare replied, holding back tears. 

“She’ll be all right.”

John turned, and stared into Victor Frankenstein’s concerned face. He looked utterly drained. The work on Vanessa had been tricky and painstaking. Even with John helping, it had been an exhausting task.

“I pray she won’t hate us for what we’re about to do,” John said.

“She would never hate us,” the young scientist murmured. “She was always too fine for such as that.” His voice broke.

John nodded, his golden eyes compassionate. He was silent for a long moment. “Do you think - she’ll return to us tonight?”

“I know she will,” Victor declared, with a confidence he was far from feeling. “We’re very fortunate she wasn’t embalmed, and that you got to her so quickly.” 

John could hear the boom of thunder, and through the dirty glass of the lab’s partly boarded up windows, he glimpsed a flash of lightning. His gaze returned to Vanessa. On impulse, he dipped his fingers into the water, and gently took one of her pale hands into his. “Soon you’ll be back with us, dearest – and no one will ever be able to hurt you again.”

“John - It’s time.”

Releasing Vanessa’s hand, John checked to make sure that all of the straps holding her to the gurney were secure. Then he moved to the nearby workbench, where a bronze device gleamed amidst a clutter of medical equipment, papers, and dirty plates, remnants of some of Victor’s past meals. John stretched out his hand, and pressed the square button on the top of the device.

With a loud clanking of gears and wrenching of pulleys, the lift apparatus attached to the gurney began to move.

John watched as Vanessa's body rose from her temporary sarcophagus. One of her arms fell to the side, and water dripped from it, shining like crystal in the dim light. When the gurney hovered two or three feet over the tank, he pressed the button again, halting its rise.

Victor was ready, quickly drying Vanessa with a large towel, then attaching electrical wires and electrodes to her body and limbs. As a final touch, he attached an electrode at each of her temples, like a crown of thorns. When he finished, he gestured to John Clare to restart the machinery.

As the apparatus rose, John’s eyes nervously followed Vanessa’s progress. He took a deep breath, and then hurried with Victor to the building’s roof, where the great bank of electrical equipment stood, ready to perform its strange miracle of resurrection.

With a look of grim determination, the young doctor halted before his machine, his slim body tense. Once again, he was about to embark upon the forbidden. But this time, his motivation was noble, born of deep friendship and loyalty to Vanessa Ives. He flipped a switch, and the generators hummed noisily to life, their white and crimson lights sparkling like fire along the bronze and glass coils.

The two men stared at the panorama of the night sky. There were clouds overhead, through which a few distant stars gleamed. They looked so far away. At intervals, there was the roar of thunder, with lightning burning white against the darkness and slanting rain.

John wondered if somewhere up there, adrift in the endless heavens, Vanessa was watching. The thought gave him strength. Whispering a brief prayer, he stared down through the skylight, watching the gurney rise slowly towards him.

****

The air was alive with ozone - Victor inhaled, drawing its sharp fresh scent into his lungs. Worriedly, he stared at Vanessa, encased like a mummy in a cocoon of shining wire and electrodes. The apparatus of resurrection hummed behind him, the sound skittering against his awareness, throbbing in the darkness. Lightning rent the sky, huge jagged streaks of light racing through the clouds. There was another boom of thunder. Rain fell steadily, whipped by the rising wind. Suddenly he realized that John Clare was standing too near the gurney. As he shouted a warning, a bolt of lightning struck Vanessa’s body.

John was thrown clear, but lay for a moment, stunned. Victor rushed to his side, and was relieved to discover that the other man was unharmed.

Sparks erupted from the electrodes attached to Vanessa’s head and body, crackling and hissing like outraged serpents. The lightning flowed into her, as if filling a hollow lantern, enveloping her body with a blue-white intensity so brilliant, she was illuminated from within, the delicate contours of her bones showing through skin and muscle.

John Clare cried out. Was this what had happened to him, the night that Victor had returned him to life? 

Desperately, he started towards Vanessa, but Victor held him back. “Not yet – the electricity is too strong – touch her now, and it will kill you!”

“It’s going to burn her up – she’ll be destroyed!”

“No – no, it won’t. I promise – she will be unscathed,” Victor assured him.

Stricken, John Clare focused on the gurney. It had transformed into a bier of light, and within its glowing nimbus, he could just make out Vanessa’s still form, her hair whipping frenziedly in every direction as the electricity surged through her. Abruptly, she convulsed. Her head jerked, and her limbs twitched wildly, struggling against the straps that bound them. Convulsing again, her body thrashed, and as the white fire of the lightning ignited her cells, her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes snapped open, staring wildly, and she began to scream. 

“My God – Get her out of there!” John yelled. 

“Wait until the fire dies!” Victor cautioned, tightening his grip on John Clare. “There – now – see how it fades? But we must turn off the equipment first before we can touch her, or we’ll both be electrocuted.” 

John pulled himself free, and ran to the apparatus. Its lights glittered in the darkness, its colossal bulk pulsing with the power of a god. Hurriedly, he flung the switch, and the machinery fell silent. The lights dimmed, slowly winking out. The only sound now was rain, and the distant growl of thunder. With a sort of dread, he registered that the screaming had also stopped.

He turned back to Vanessa, and saw that Victor was bending over her, busily removing the electrodes from her skull. When he was done with that, he started to unwind the tangled coils of burnt wire, carefully picking the other electrodes from the rest of her body, and dropping them, one by one, onto the flat surface of the roof.

In a moment, John Clare was by his side, unbuckling the leather straps that bound Vanessa to the gurney. In companionable silence, the two men worked together to free her. To John’s vast relief, he saw that she was still breathing. She was unconscious, her eyes closed, but a bit of rosy color had blossomed in her cheeks. Softly, he touched the side of her face. Her skin felt warm, and his eyes filled with tears - but this time, they were tears of joy. She lived. Murmuring her name, he loosened the last strap, and lifted her free from the gurney.

Victor grinned. “Well, old boy, we did it!”

With Vanessa cradled in his arms, John returned the smile. “That we did.”

“We best get her downstairs, and by the fire. It’s freezing up here, and she’s damp from the rain. I’m not surprised she’s unconscious – coming back from death can be quite a shock to the system.” The young doctor laughed shakily. 

“How long do you think it will be until she awakens?”

“She’s gone into a natural sleep – and that’s good – sleep is the most healing medicine in the world. It may be a few hours, or could be sooner. When she does finally awake, we’ll get some warm broth into her, and see how she's feeling.”

They headed down the stairs to Victor’s quarters. There was a sagging couch near the fireplace. John laid Vanessa on its worn upholstery, glancing around for something warm to cover her. A blue wool shawl – he thought it had belonged to Lily – was neatly folded over one end of the couch. He retrieved it, reverently spreading it over Vanessa’s slumbering form. “I wonder – do you think she’ll be herself?”

Victor tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Will her memory be affected? Mine didn’t come back for a very long time, and even now, there’s still much that is missing. Sometimes a sight or sound will jog my memory, and then suddenly – as if waking from a dream – that memory is back, with all its depth and emotion. While I welcome their return, the experience can at times, be quite terrifying. How will it be for her?”

The young scientist shrugged. “Honestly – I don’t know." He stared solemnly at John. "The resurrection process is unpredictable, and it’s been different for each of those I’ve brought back from the dead.” 

“I was out of my mind for a very long time,” John replied, his gaze unflinching. “Confused and angry - my fear making me lash out with unforgivable violence. The faces of your friend, Van Helsing – and of Proteus, my brother in rebirth – still haunt me. As for Lily – I had no right to demand you perform another revival.” He hung his head, and sighed deeply. “No right – no right at all. The man I had been would never have committed such reprehensible deeds. A lack of memory hardly seems justification. I would beg your forgiveness, but feel I am undeserving of it.”

“I have much to atone for also. What right had I to bring any of you back? In my own way, I treated each of you abominably. Thinking only of my science – and in the case of Lily, my own selfish desires. And I too – am not without sin when it comes to taking a life.” Victor thought sadly of Lily, and of her last moments as Brona Croft. At the end, she had seemed to give him assent - but perhaps that had merely been his own desperate delusion. Someday he might tell John - but for now, he could not bring himself to share that shameful secret with anyone. 

John smiled ruefully. “Well – I wouldn’t be here now, had you thought differently. And I suppose – for that – I should thank you, however belatedly.”

“Perhaps – We can forgive each other?” Victor extended his hand, an expression of hope glimmering in his eyes.

“Yes – I think we can. And do.” With a sense of wonder, John shook hands with the other man. “Besides, we are united in protecting one that we both cherish.” His gaze travelled to Vanessa. He was pleased to see that the color had returned completely to her face, and that her sleep was peaceful and untroubled.

The room was cold – the fire had burned down, only embers glowing in the hearth. There was a box of firewood nearby, as well as rolls of old newspaper for kindling. John knelt and busied himself with relighting the fire. Soon, the flames were crackling merrily, and warmth filled the room, golden firelight dancing over the faded walls and stained floor. Outside, there was another burst of thunder, but it now sounded very far away. The rain hitting the eaves of the building gave him an odd feeling of comfort - as if it was washing away all of his sins, and Victor’s.

He stretched out on the floor before the hearth, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’ll take the first watch – you get some sleep, and I’ll come get you when it’s your turn.”

Victor looked appalled. “Do you think there’s still danger - from _him_?” He was reluctant to even say the vampire lord’s name aloud.

"I suspect such a powerful being may be able to sense her life force, so we must be vigilant. Come morning, we'll inform Ethan Chandler and Sir Malcolm that Vanessa has returned to us.” He chuckled. "I imagine they'll be overjoyed, not to say utterly amazed."

The scientist seemed distinctly uneasy at this response. Reluctantly, he muttered, “I guess they should be informed.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You never told them, did you?”

“Um – no – it – ah – never came up.” Running a hand through his hair, Victor glanced anxiously around the room, as if seeking divine guidance. “With so much going on – I – um – just never got around to it.”

John shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid of telling them about your resurrection process – and frankly, I don’t care. It’s time to put your fears aside. We have more important things to worry about – such as protecting Vanessa from Dracula - and to do that, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“You’re right, of course. I’m being a complete ass.” Victor sighed. If Ethan Chandler ever found out that he'd resurrected Brona, and kept it a secret, things would not go well. He thought of the tall gunslinger, and with a shudder, envisioned the American's anger, and his deadly Colt suddenly aimed at him. But so be it. John Clare was right - Vanessa's safety must come first. As he rose to head into the little cubbyhole that served him as a bedchamber, he suddenly paused. “Your name – what was it – in that life you had before?”

A sad smile etched the corners of John's mouth. “It was John Clare.”

“But didn't you just take that from a book of poetry - because you liked the sound of the author's name?"

“I had thought that too, at first. Ironic, is it not, that it's actually my real name.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Victor agreed. He glanced at Vanessa. “Let me know if she awakens. There’s tea and some food in the cupboard near the door - should you feel hungry.” Yawning, he lifted the ragged dividing curtain, and thankfully headed to bed.

"Goodnight, Victor," John murmured absently. He grabbed the poker, and thoughtfully stirred the fire. Sparks shot up the chimney. A distant memory suddenly surfaced – he was a child, sitting before a similar fire, pretending he could see visions in it. Perhaps he really had. He recalled on several occasions, seeing a young woman’s face appear in the flames – a very beautiful face, fine-boned, and elegant. She had brown skin and long dark hair, and upon her head, she wore some sort of strange crown. It was made of gold, sparkling with jewels, and fashioned in the shape of a serpent. The woman’s eyes were immensely sad, their color the deep blue of the sea. With his adult perspective, he realized that she greatly resembled Vanessa Ives. Why, he wondered, would his child-self have seen such a vision? It was yet another mystery to solve. For that matter, he didn’t even know how he had died. He thought of the scars on his face, and suspected it had been a violent death, and probably quite painful. Perhaps, it would be better not to know.

He glanced fondly at his sleeping friend. She had turned on her side, and a faint smile touched her lips. Really, the important thing was that Vanessa was back – alive, and hopefully with all of her memories intact. He had laid his old black coat on the hearth to dry. Reaching into one of its pockets, he withdrew a small leather-bound book. With a sigh of contentment, he leaned against the wall, and began to read.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Disclaimer:_ Obviously Penny Dreadful, and its characters, as well as the characters of classic horror literature and film, and the quotation at the beginning of this story, belong to their respective creators / writers / networks, etc. I'm just a devoted fan playing in their sandbox, and make no profit, etc.


End file.
